Still better had been the decision for her and Christopher to drive out in a first foray to see what they could learn regarding any recent smuggling activity. Toby had volunteered to hold the fort in terms of the watch on Goffard Hall; it had seemed wise to leave him to oversee that task, just in case anyone suspicious was sighted.
Yet the most potent source of her contentment, her happiness with her lot, was her memories of the kisses she and Christopher had shared in the Benenden Grange conservatory.
Kisses that had had no reason for happening other than that he—and she—had wished them to.
And now she had another kiss to add to the list.
When she’d woken that morning, she’d wondered how, given those kisses in the moonlight, Christopher would react when next they met. For her part, she’d been eager to learn what might happen. She’d waited through the meeting, but all the others had been there, and he and she had kept their minds on organizing the surveillance of Goffard Hall.
Once the others had gone, Toby had remained, gooseberry-like, until she’d excused herself to return to Bigfield House for luncheon.
Christopher had walked her to the stable, and while they’d been waiting for her mare to be saddled, he’d reached for her and stolen a very thorough kiss—to which she had enthusiastically responded.
Only when they’d heard the clop of approaching hooves had they stepped apart.
She let the remembered warmth flow through her, but, she reflected, kisses weren’t everything.
Admittedly, Christopher’s kisses were impressive, but the fact that she was where she was, sitting beside him as they embarked on the next phase of this investigation, spoke to some other, deeper and equally important need.
She couldn’t predict how the interaction between them would evolve, nor could he. They would have to see, but meanwhile, they had smugglers to find.
She opened her eyes as the curricle rolled past a gap in the hedge to her right. Through it, in the distance, she glimpsed Bigfield House. She’d missed luncheon in order to cram all the tasks for her day into the few hours before Christopher came to fetch her; she hadn’t completed absolutely everything, but hopefully, she’d done enough.
“I’m sure they can manage for one afternoon.”
Christopher’s dry comment had her facing forward. After a second, she replied, “We’ll see.”
Their destination was Hastings, where Christopher hoped to find men he knew who used to run with the local smuggling gang.
She wondered how he’d come by the acquaintance, but before she could ask, he slowed his horses to a walk and turned right, into one of her uncle’s fields. She blinked. “Did you forget something?” Was he intending to turn his horses?
“No.” He nodded ahead. “The gypsies are camped farther down the meadow, and Aaron, Gracella, and their band have just finished traveling and working through the Weald east of here.” Christopher met her eyes. “Gypsies have a very efficient communication system, so before we go rattling off to Hastings, it won’t hurt to ask if they’ve heard any relevant whispers. They might be able to pinpoint the area in which it would be most profitable to search.”
Thinking of the earlier meeting, she frowned. “You didn’t tell them that the contact we’re hoping to identify by watching Goffard Hall might be a smuggler?”
He shook his head. “The point didn’t arise, and regardless, I wouldn’t want to direct our watchers to think it was only smugglers—people who look like smugglers—they need to watch for. We don’t know who might turn up with those notes.”
Ahead, Ellen saw ten gaily painted wagons drawn up in an arc above the stream. Her curiosity reared its head, and she returned an amenable “Ah—I see.”
She was more than happy to visit the gypsy camp. Besides, Gracella had invited her to take tea.
Christopher halted his pair twenty yards from the nearest wagon. Several children came running up. After greeting him and Ellen politely—the children already knew their names—the two oldest boys offered to hold the horses.
After descending and handing over the reins, Christopher rounded the curricle and gave Ellen his hand.
She’d been studying the girls, who had congregated on her side of the carriage; they’d been unabashedly examining her, transparently fascinated by her ribbons and rosettes.
Ellen gripped his hand and descended. While she twitched her skirts straight, he looked at the oldest girl. “We would like to speak with Mrs. Codona and Aaron.”
Although patently reluctant to cut short her scrutiny of Ellen, the girl nodded, turned, and ran to the wagons.
The other girls pressed close about Ellen: one, greatly daring, put out a finger and touched one ribbon rosette. The girl smiled up at Ellen. “They are pretty—and you are pretty, too.”
Ellen smiled. “Thank you.” She considered the rosettes around her hem, then confessed, “My aunt likes to see me in ribbons and bows and frills.” She lightly shrugged. “I don’t mind.”
The girls grinned, as if mention of an aunt had struck a chord.
Christopher offered his arm, Ellen laid her hand on his sleeve, and they set off across the grass with the gaggle of children as escort.
The oldest girl had vanished around the wagon Christopher knew was Gracella’s and Aaron’s; before he and Ellen had reached the first wagon in the arc, the girl came racing up.
She halted before them. “Great-grandmama says welcome and please come to her wagon.”
The red-and-gold-painted wagon sat in the center of the arc, its steps facing the distant gate. Several yards before the wagon’s steps was a ring of stones enclosing a large fire pit in which a small fire licked the base of a kettle hung over it.
Gracella sat in state in a wicker chair set before the fire. Stools of various shapes and sizes ranged to either side.
Ellen was looking about her, curiosity stamped all over her face. As Christopher led her forward, the children danced around them, chattering, laughing, and staring, then two boys ran ahead to place stools for the visitors to either side of Gracella’s throne.
Christopher halted before Gracella and half bowed. “Mrs. Codona. Thank you for seeing us.”
Gracella favored him with a nod, but immediately, her bright eyes moved to Ellen, and a smile wreathed her face. “I am pleased you have come—you will take tea, yes?”
Ellen darted a swift glance at Christopher and answered, “With pleasure, ma’am.”
Gracella waved them to the stools the boys had arranged and rattled off a string of orders to the older girls. They dashed off, climbing the steps into Gracella’s wagon in search of the requirements to make tea.
“Now”—Gracella looked from Ellen to Christopher—“while the young ones are preparing the tea, you can ask me what it is you wish to know.”
Christopher wasn’t surprised by her directness. “While the others are keeping watch on Goffard Hall, we thought to see if we can learn who is ferrying the illegal package from the coast to the Hall. We believe a smuggling gang is involved. Before we”—with a tip of his head, he included Ellen—“head to the coast and start making inquiries, I thought to ask if you, Aaron, or your people had heard any whisper of recent smuggling activity in the areas through which you’ve traveled this season.”